


Happy Birthday, sweetheart.

by wtsnhlms



Series: Watson-Holmes [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 15:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10468662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtsnhlms/pseuds/wtsnhlms
Summary: It's Sherlock's birthday, and John has a surprise (or two) for him.





	

Sherlock stirs to the sounds of muffled squeals and hushed whispers from the kitchen of 221B. Twisting in the sheets, he glances to the windows and confirms that it is indeed already past noon. He isn’t entirely surprised; a case had kept him going without so much as a quick nap and barely any food for three days straight, and it had taken only a light nudge from John for the detective to pass out on their bed.

He lifts the duvet- ah, trust John to divest him of his suit and redress him in well-worn pajama bottoms and nothing else. Sherlock grins to himself, stretching languidly, getting rid of the kinks in his stiff joints. He tosses aside the duvet and gets up to throw on his dressing gown, but before he can reach for the doorknob of the bedroom, the door opens to reveal Rosie, her tiny feet pitter-pattering as she barrels straight into Sherlock.

“Papa, papa, papa!” she laughs, dimples present on her ever-chubby cheeks, her blonde hair bouncing in her excitement. Sherlock’s face lights up in adoration, a noise of pleasant surprise escaping him; He bends down to pick her up and swing her in the air, feeling the warmth spread and spread through his chest as he brings her close to pepper kisses in her hair, and on her closed eyelids, and round button nose - entirely John’s nose, he thinks.

Sherlock pauses, the toddler propped up on his waist, as he leans in and tries to identify the twin white smears he’s just spotted on Rosie’s lips. “Yum! Yum!” she giggles, as she always does ever since she got accustomed to the look Sherlock wears when he is busy thinking. “Cuh-c-cake!”

Sherlock lets loose a look as if scandalised, mouth opening to ask John what on earth would have possessed him to feed their daughter dessert at this time of day when he spots his beloved standing in the corridor. John holds steady in his hands an impressive-looking cake, his face adorned with that bright, fond smile Sherlock loves so much.

They meet halfway, Rosie clapping her hands in excitement while simultaneously trying to grab and stuff more cake into her face. Sherlock holds her just out of arm’s reach, shaking his head at John but no words come to him.

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart,” John whispers, barely audible. “Make a wish.”

Sherlock acquiesces, deciding to humour John by squeezing his eyes shut and thinking hard. Rosie follows suit, her nose scrunched, bopping her head to Sherlock’s while John looks on, eyes softening and smile widening impossibly. Exactly 5.7 seconds later, Sherlock opens his eyes, locks gazes with his lover as he tilts forwards and blows out the solitary candle.

“John.”

“What did you wish for, my love?” John asks.

“An eternity with you, my family, by my side.” This Sherlock announces, with certainty and fierce willpower.

John heaves a deep breath and does not reply, only moving back into the kitchen to place the cake in a thankfully-clean-section of the fridge. “The cake can wait,” he says with a smile, returning to where Sherlock and their daughter stood in their tight embrace. “Come on Rosie, give papa a big birthday kiss, and I’ll bring you to see your nan downstairs.”

The little girl starts bouncing in Sherlock’s arm - excited with the prospect of seeing her beloved Mrs Hudson - whipping her head around, golden hair almost slapping Sherlock in the face, much to John’s amusement. She leans in and plants a big wet kiss on Sherlock’s right cheek and he rewards her with a kiss on her forehead in return. “Paaa!” she laughs, and Sherlock finds that his eyes have gone mysteriously misty. He passes her over to John’s steady arms, and watches as father and daughter make their way downstairs to 221A.

With unsteady steps Sherlock makes his way to the sitting room, dropping heavily into the sofa as he waits for John to return. He steeples his fingers under his chin in his default thinking pose, and does not realise he’s been away in his mind for a while until he feels John’s tender touch caressing his hair, and the welcome warmth of John’s thigh under his cheek. He doesn’t recall turning and lying on his side in John’s lap, but he ignores the details nonetheless, choosing instead to tilt his head up and meet John’s thin, soft lips with his own.

“Why can’t Rosie stay?” Sherlock asks, once they’ve parted for air.

“Thought I’d prefer if we were alone, so I could give you your birthday gift... properly,” John replies, but there is a hesitation masked behind his words, and it starts to gnaw at Sherlock’s mind.

“Is it birthday sex?” Sherlock teases, only to receive a poke in his ribs with a yelp as John giggles above him, leaning down to kiss him deeply and with all the love he can muster. Sherlock melts into the kiss, his hands reaching up to grab hold of John’s nape and upper arm. His bottom lip slots in between both of John’s, and he lets go a breathy moan as John sucks and nips on the flesh offered to him.

“Well, that would come later, obviously,” John whispers into Sherlock’s neck. “But I have something else for you first.” With that he leaned forwards to fetch a thick envelope Sherlock hadn’t bothered to notice lying on the coffee table, grabbing Sherlock’s hand to lay a kiss upon the back of it before wrapping said hand around the envelope.

Sherlock sat up immediately, creases forming between his brow as he attempts to deduce what the papers inside were. John rubs his back, the touch a soothing balm, easing away the tension building and threatening to suck the air out of his lungs. Sherlock gives up trying to think his way through it, unceremoniously ripping the sealed end of the envelope open and pulling out the crisp stack of documents inside.

His eyes get to work immediately, scanning through the first paragraph - wait. He pauses, rereads from the beginning. He scans the words above it to confirm what he thought he was reading.

His jaw drops.

Sherlock scrambles to turn on the sofa and face his partner, only to almost fall off at the sight of the gleam of silver held aloft in John’s hand.

“J-John? What are you..? Is that?” Sherlock stutters, the envelope forgotten on the floor and the documents - adoption papers, for Rosie, of course - clutched tightly to his chest.

John’s deep blue eyes flicker back and forth between the ring and Sherlock’s face, the worry lines on his face deepening and loosening. As Sherlock shuffles forwards on his knees, the worry lines disappear altogether and his smile widens and the crow’s feet on his weathered face crinkle in what has to be hope. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them, and Sherlock gasps at what he sees.

Slowly, John mirrors his lover, pulling his legs up to kneel on the sofa, closing the distance between them. He reaches out and takes Sherlock’s free hand, the ring in the other splendid and elegant in its beauty; his eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and Sherlock struggles to keep in the emotions threatening to burst out of his chest any moment now.

“Sherlock- I know the past year hasn’t been the easiest. We’ve been through more than any decent human being deserves to endure in his lifetime. We’ve lost the ones we love; we gained new ones along the way. But through it all, you were the constant in my life, Sherlock. You never gave up on me, even when I was being a dick and only caused your more pain. You didn’t hesitate to welcome me back into 221B. You embraced Rosie as if she was your flesh and blood.”

“She’s a part of you, John, of course I’ll love her,” Sherlock interrupts, flashing a sad smile.

“Yeah well, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re a better father to her than I ever was,” John snickers, but there is no bitterness behind his words. “Then that day came when we thought someone had taken Rosie, only to find that she had simply crawled into one of Mrs Hudson’s many cupboards, and you had that look on your face as your held her and teared up as you kissed her hair - don’t look at me like that, you really did cry - only then did I realise that you and Rosie were all I ever needed, my family, right here where I belong. I made love to you for the first time that night, after we had tucked Rosie in to bed and stood there watching her for what had to be hours. I remember all of it, from the moment we kissed for the first time, to the way you look disheveled and blissed out with release, your long limbs wrapping around me like I was your own personal burrito.”

“It was the best night of my life,” Sherlock grins, unashamed at the corniness of his answer.

“I bet it was.” John winks. “That night, I decided then and there I wanted to marry you. It was only ever you, Sherlock. You made me into the man I’ve ever wanted to be. Who I want to be, Sherlock, is your life partner, your _husband_ , the only one allowed to see you through your best, and your worst. The only one you can rely on, other than that government-arsed Mycroft. The only one who you’d bring to retire to the country with you when we’ve gone all silver and wrinkled. Hopefully, one day, that I’ll also be the one you’d walk with down the aisle with our daughter sandwiched between us on her wedding day. Let me be the one, Sherlock. I love you, and I really really would like to know, right now, if you’d make me the happiest man alive and allow me to finally hyphenate our names?”

Sherlock can’t help it but laugh at the unorthodox choice of words, but oh he loves John so much and yet - “Are you sure you want this?”

“More than anything, sweetheart. Please,” John pleads softly, brushing a light kiss on that cupid’s bow.

“And that’s where the adoption papers come in?”

“Obviously. You can now be Rosie’s papa, officially. If you want to be, that is.”

Sherlock gulps, his throat gone tight. He looks down at their entwined hands and the ring, and the enormity of the moment hits him then, that he is of that very moment, a word, a single syllable away from the one thing he’d never thought he’d find. The love of his life, which in this case is a culmination of ugly jumpers, comfy jumpers, endless cups of tea, kisses in his hair, kisses on his forehead followed by his lips, eyes drowning in love and fascination each and every time they’re trained on him. John Watson is truly a miracle.

“Yes,” Sherlock breathes, the fire in his chest expanding, lighting him up from the inside. 

He feels invincible.

“Yes?” John parrots, his hands tightening their hold on Sherlock’s hand and ring, respectively.

“Yes to us, and yes to Rosie,” Sherlock nods, a sob ripping from his throat. “ _Please._ ”

“God, thank you, Sherlock, thank you,” John sniffles through a rush of tears as he struggles to focus on Sherlock’s ring finger, slipping the silver band on, snug, right to where it belonged. “God, I can’t believe - I love you so much, you have to know that. Thank you for giving me this.”

“You are my whole world, John, you and Rosie both. Never doubt that. I’d do anything for the both of you. And to celebrate, dear husband, I believe I was promised another present; apparently it has something to do with the phrase, “a romp in the sheets?”

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://wtsnhlms.tumblr.com) <3 if you wanna say hi, or even better, send me prompts, and I will fulfill them :D


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